Fire and Ice

•9•

Kate begins leading Cap back to where she thinks answers might be — though, of course, she can't be certain. Still, she can narrow it down better than he could.

He walks with purpose next to her, and she squeals on the inside. This is so accurate to his personality; it's like when he went against orders with Howard Stark and Peggy Carter and saved Bucky and the 107th. Just... less heroic. Either way, she's on an unauthorized mission with Captain America.

She thought the giddy excitement had fled with the incident in the woods, but it's coming back now, growing the longer they walk. She can't wait to tell Coulson — provided he won't be mad about the nature of the mission.

"So, Dr. Carson," Cap starts conversationally, "can I ask... why you joined SHIELD in the first place?"

The question brings the memory to mind again, taking her back to when she didn't even know what SHIELD was.

~_~_~_~_~

"You don't have to stay," Kate said. She couldn't carry any of the groceries they'd stopped to get, so Jones was getting them by himself. He was just about eight years younger than her father, still working. Kate hated that he was helping her, especially when he had his own family to worry about.

He stopped, one hand on the trunk of his car. "Can you make your own food?"

"Well, I know how," Kate replied.

"You can't even grab a snack, Kate," he said, shutting the trunk. "You're not supposed to do much with your hands for another week or so, and then you have to do physical therapy. Until we know you can take care of yourself, somebody is going to be here to help you."

Kate went quiet for a bit as he went around the car and walked towards the front door, her key already in his hand. She couldn't understand why he was so insistent. He didn't owe her anything, and yet here he was. She wouldn't help her, after everything. After what she'd become — though he didn't actually know that last part. She didn't want to know herself.

"Thank you," she said, feeling humbled and hurting and sick over all of it. She walked around the car, but she found that Jones had already gone in and left the front door partly open.

She walked over, pushed it with her foot to get through. The living room was empty. "Jones?"

"In here," he said from the kitchen, his voice tense. Kate hurried in.

She saw a man leaning next to the stove — tall, in all black, with an eye patch over one eye. He turned to Kate, then said, "You should close the front door, Dr. Carson."

As intimidating as he was, Kate didn't budge. "Why?"

"This conversation isn't for prying ears," he replied simply. "And I doubt you want flies in your house."

She ignored the second remark. "What conversation?"

"The one we're about to have."

"And who said I wanted to talk to you?"

"Oh, I think you do," he said, standing up straight, walking over to her. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

"Not of you."

"But of yourself."

She went quiet, her breath catching in her throat. How did he know?

"Who is this guy, Kate?" Jones asked cautiously, looking between them. "What's he talking about?"